


Mellohi

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, Eret wonders if he made the right choice. One-shot, introspection Set post-L'Manberg war.
Kudos: 88





	Mellohi

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Mellohi as I wrote this. The track has an interesting mood.

Eret reclined on his beautiful throne, certain that he cut an intimidating figure in his kingly robes and fine crown, at the heart of his castle, the finest build in the Dream SMP. Right here, he was powerful. He was in charge. He was the king.

It mattered little, when the room was empty.

He could project all the power he wished, but none was there to witness it. He was alone.

It was unfair, really. He’d given up so much to achieve this position, his friends, his country, his honour; all for a few nods here and there. Sure, he had a few subjects, in theory, but the Dream SMP members seemed to never be around. He hadn’t seen several of them in weeks. And even when they were around, they acted so passively, they hardly required any leadership at all! Truly his kingdom looked far grander than it really was.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. L’Manberg was supposed to have fallen.

Eret stood up, seized with a sudden energy and went to gather some supplies. Within minutes he had marched out of his castle, and began heading through his lands. There was something he wanted to see. The one place he wasn’t allowed to see.

He had betrayed his fellow comrades with the expectation that their nation would have been destroyed, that they’d be duly punished for their actions and eventually end up back within the Dream SMP, under his new rule. Sure, they’d have been rebellious and reluctant, but they’d have had little choice to respect him. And if they’d wanted to try and fight? He’d have welcomed that too.

Instead, they were thriving outside his lands, in a safe haven that really ought to have ceased existing. It was there Eret found himself walking towards, heedless of the risks. He’d take care not to be seen. In theory, the tiny lands of L’Manberg held nothing of any value to him. No unique resources, nothing that could rival anything from the Dream SMP. All their members were poor and barely had enough weapons and food to get through each day. They were nothing in comparison to him.

_(And that was the point. Wilbur Soot had dreamed of a land where people were free from being judged by the power of their armour. Eret had always found it strange, fond of his own set of Netherite gear but had respected Wilbur’s ideals.)_

It was all ludicrous. How had Dream traded a nation for a pair of music discs? What were they worth to anyone?

Soon, Eret drew near to the walls. He’d helped build not so long ago and to this day, new a secret route through them. It was a small opening, hard to see and so far no one else had detected it. They’d had a lot to rebuild from the war and they weren’t nearly so secure as they liked to believe. In a darker cloak and in the middle of the night, Eret was able to creep in unseen.

It was dangerous to be here. Wwhat they lacked in gear, they more than made up in potions and if they saw him, they wouldn’t hesitate to attack. Then they’d capture him and he’d be in trouble.

But they weren’t prepared. It was late and they were asleep. A couple weeks ago, they might have kept watch, but they were at peace now. Supposedly, they had no enemies to worry about.

As Eret finally, squeezed his way through the wall, he paused to stare at the familiar lands. Much had changed since he’d been gone.

There were houses, little practical buildings clearly built in a hurry. He could see half-built docks in the distance, more trees had been planted and there were new monuments, new memorials he didn’t recognise. There was also a lot of damage. The grounds were still blackened in places, where they’d been hit with explosives. Eret could even see little arrow fragments littering the ground. It had been a battleground. Even the old caravan was looking more battered.

It was there he approached, knowing there’s where his former friends would be. He didn’t know what he wanted. To see them, he supposed. Why, he didn’t know. He remembered when they’d been happy to see him and wished he could make them understand why he’d done what he’d done.

Eret paused. Music was playing.

It was faint but undeniably the lilting tone of Mellohi. The slow mournful piece he remembered from a different time. Tommy’s disc. The one he’d traded away for the soil Eret now stood upon.

He crept forwards, thinking at first it had to be a fake. But his ears registered the distinct choppiness unique to Tommy’s disc. It was real.

As if compelled by the alluring notes, Eret found himself walking in, somehow unsurprised to find that the doors were unlocked. What else could you expect from this nation? The music felt richer in person and suddenly he was torn, on whether or not he hated this strange track. Why did Tommy value it so much? What made it worth so much to him? What made it so valuable to Dream and why had he returned it?

Eret was being a fool in remaining here, he realised distantly. He’d been lucky not to be caught in the middle of the grounds, yet how did he expect to remain undetected in the caravan? Fortune was smiling oh him however, for it seemed Tommy was alone here, and he’d fallen asleep listening to his precious music disc.

Tommy, the face of the revolution, widely viewed by all as the noble hero who’d given up everything for his home. Eret wanted to hate him. They were bitter foes. And yet… watching him in the dim lighting, Eret was struck by how young the boy really was. Why was he listening to such a dreary track? Why did it appeal to him so much?

“Tommy…” Eret whispered. “You’ve -we’ve suffered. Haven’t we?”

“You gave up everything but you’ve gained so much more,” Eret said softly. The boy continued to sleep, Eret’s deep voice drowned out by the lulling music coming from the jukebox.

“I miss you guys. I hope you get Cat back again soon. It’s a much cheerier piece and suits you much better,” Eret murmured before turning around.

He could take the disc, he realised suddenly. It was worth the world to Tommy. He didn’t play it often for fear of it being lost. This was his one opportunity to grab it. That disc was power.

And yet, Eret couldn’t imagine this melody playing inside his hollow castle. He couldn’t bear to hear it much more. And it deserved to be listened to.

As Eret walked back to his castle he wondered at his choices. How did he possess the mightiest of castles and yet felt dwarfed in power by a run-down caravan playing an old dreary melody? Why were the people of L’Manberg constantly surrounded by their friends while he was alone and trusted by no one?


End file.
